


Silent freeway

by cigarettesandalcohol



Category: Last Shadow Puppets, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alex in trouble, Anxiety, Delusions, Hallucinations, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Paranoia, Psychosis, Schizophrenia, incomprehensible behavior, milex - Freeform, obviously angst, police encounters, poor Alex and Miles, thought disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-01 04:32:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4005982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettesandalcohol/pseuds/cigarettesandalcohol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Night after night, we pretend it's all right. But I have grown older and you have grown colder and nothing is very much fun anymore."</p><p>Alex's behavior has changed lately. Not in a good way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day after day, love turns grey

**Author's Note:**

> Milex, milex, milex, milex all the way! This is my first fic here. I can’t write. Especially not in English since it’s not my mother tongue, haha. This should be a chaptered fic but I have no idea what I’m doing and I know that my English is horrible etc., so I’m not sure if I should write, haha, kill me please, I’m terrible, I can’t even use the fucking present perfect….  
> The title and part of the summary is taken from Pink Floyd song "One of my turns"

“Alex, babe?”

Alex lifted his head at the silent whisper coming from the door. A pleasant smile, which makes his face even more beautiful, spreads his lips and lifts its corners. His eyes are shining as he sees the person whose lips let out his own name in such a beautiful way, a person who is standing at the door.

“Yeah, Mi?”

His smile is infectious and Miles is always the first one to get infected. But today Miles’ smile doesn’t look as fair and honest as usual. There is something different in it, a worried expression hidden under the mask of an innocent smile, but Alex doesn’t seem to mind. Or even notice at all; he quickly returns back to his work and leaves Miles standing in the doorway.

“Why ‘ave you done this?” Miles asks. There’s no need to explain what does “this” stand for. The caramel-brownish carpet of the room is covered with newspaper, unseen and completely hidden. It’s like the floor of the room disappeared and was replaced by pages of The Times and The Sun. It looks like a room before painting, when the newspapers are supposed to protect the carpet and the floor from the colour which could drip down from the freshly painted walls.

But they didn’t want to paint this room’s walls.

“Why have you done it?” he repeats when Alex doesn’t answer after the first try.

“What?”

Miles nods at the newspapers that are all around Alex, who is sitting in the middle of the room. “This.”

“I-I just bought the newspapers and it’s better to read it all when it’s still new and fresh out... Look at this!” – he pointed his finger at one of the articles – Miles couldn’t read the text, he just saw a photography of an unfamiliar house. “They say this is the place where that man who killed his wife’s been hiding.”

Miles frowned. “I didn’t know you’re interested in this case,” he muttered.

“ ‘m not. I’ve just seen the man.”

“What?”

“ _I’ve seen him_. The man who killed his wife.”

“Where?”

“In the shop today, y’know?”

There was a mixture of surprise and doubts inside Miles’ head, but he managed to keep calm think clearly. “But...but he’s been arrested. It was on the TV.”

“I’ve seen ‘im. I’ve seen ‘im and I knew immediately that it’s him. It was written on his face, y’know? Sometimes you can read other people’s faces and this was _that_ case, I knew that it’s him, he’s the murderer...”

“ ‘m tellin’ you he’s been arrested already. We were watching the news and they said he’s been arrested...was it yesterday? Maybe the day before yesterday, dunno.”

“No, he’s still free and I’ve met him, are you even listening to me?”

Maybe he’s just joking. In a very morbid, dark and not even funny way. “Al,if this was supposed to be joke then it was a poor one. And morbid. You shouldn’t be jokin’ about things like this. It’s not funny at all.”

“But it’s the truth!”

“Ah, right,” he sighed. “ ‘m sorry, ‘m not in mood for your games today. Remember we’re meeting Jack and Lynsey at nine? You should stop foolin’ about and get ready.”

There’s a moment of silence before Alex finally speaks. “I should call the police.”

“Al. _Stop it_.”

This hasn't been the best day of their relationship and it wasn't even over.

“Oh - and Al? Put all the paper in the trash _when you’re done with this game_ , ‘kay?”


	2. Like the skin of a dying man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha, I'm back! It always takes me so long to write the story - which I have in my mind - down on paper and then to do all the research for useful English words (for this chapter, I couldn't find the right word for the place in a shop where you pay... it took me a very long time to find anything else than "cash desk". And I didn't know how's called the shopping cart in England - is "a trolley" alright?)  
> Anyway: Thanks to all the awesome people who read the previous chapter and left kudos/comment, it means a lot to me! ;)  
> Kudos/comments/feedback is more than welcome!  
> Enjoy!

Alex has never liked crowded places. Too many people too close to each other; sweaty, hurried, rude and loud mass that is ready to swallow him and keep him inside like in prison. A meat grinder. That’s how this supermarket seems to him. A meat grinder. Gigantic and loud meat grinder. No privacy, no space for him, no silence.

He squeezes the handle of the trolley so hard that his knuckles are white. This is his only defense. A gesture of desperation. A sign of his weakness.

But he’s ready to fight. Anytime. Whatever.

_The people around._

_They’re weird._

_They’re looking at him._

_They don’t like him._

_The girl over there – she’s laughing at him._

_Hate in her eyes._

_She’s holding a box of a washing powder._

_She could be a murderer too. Like that man from the newspapers._

_He was in a shop too._

_And then on the TV._

_Maybe this woman is his accomplice._

_Maybe there are murderers in all shops nowadays._

_Pay attention._

_Watch out._

_Be prepared._

_You never know_.

“Oh, yoghurts!“ Miles suddenly stops walking and lightly touches Alex’s arm. “I forgot… stay 'ere, yeah? I’ll be right back.“

Alex watches his boyfriend’s legs, or more specifically, his shoes, as they are moving away from him with soft clapping of low heels. There are grey lines on the floor, meeting and approaching each other in no particular order. Just couple of lines. It’s just art, otherwise the floor would have been so empty and clearly white. That’s what some might say. But not Alex.

_There is some meaning, there has to be. These lines are tricky._

Alex steps back and counts. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine…

“..should ‘ave everythin‘ now.“ Miles is back, there’s his familiar voice and then the sound of four cups of yoghurt being dropped into the trolley. “You okay?“

Alex’s eyes are fixed on the pattern of the floor tiles and he’s still counting silently, moving his lips as the numbers are running through his mind.

“I can see twenty three lines there.”

“Yeah?”

“Ya see – crossings and all that, it looks like there are so many of them, but in fact it’s still the same line, just divided into smaller ones...”

“Yeah, great, can we go to the till?”

“Twenty three.”

Miles sighes. It’s not really easy to talk to Alex, it’s never been. He’s always somewhere else and his mind goes other way than his words do. Or maybe he just thinks too quickly and it’s not possible for him to say all the words he’d wish to say.

Miles often wondered what Alex’s thoughts would look like if somebody drew them down on paper with all their connections and associations. He would really love to see his map of thoughts or anything like that, maybe it would make this strange thought disorder more clear.

“And what’s with _twenty three_?”

“We should go to the twenty-third till.”

“There’s not twenty-third till in here, babe,” Miles laughed nervously. He doesn’t like the kind of look on Alex’s face now. It’s too tense to be good, but the fact that this shop doesn’t have as many tills makes that tense and edgy expression fade away for a while – his eyes darts towards Miles in a desperate search for some help – and then he solves the uncomfortable situation: “It has to be the fifth then.”

“You gotta be really bored, hun’.”

"Go to the fifth till.”

“Can I ask you what’s the...”

“No, no, there’s no time for this, just do it, please...”

Miles would have laughed at this moment because Alex was so adorable when begging for something.

But Alex’s wide opened eyes full of baffling fear made the laugh freeze in his throat.

It was probably the first time Miles realized that something has gone wrong.

_Really wrong._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last words of this chapter were stolen from Franz Ferdinand's "Treason! Animals" - "But something has really, really gone wrong".  
> Thank you for reading, as always ;)


	3. Night after night, we pretend it's all right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there ;) Next chapter here!
> 
> I totally forgot to explain how it is with Last Shadow Puppets in this fic - it's kinda AU. Miles and Alex are in a band The Last Shadow Puppets, but there is no Arctic Monkeys (sorry!). And they are not really famous (well - famous enough to plan an English tour, but people don't recognize them on the street). I just wanted to make that clear.
> 
> I think you already found out but I wanted to write it in here anyway: this is not going to be a story like "Alex is mentally ill and Miles knows immediately what's going on - but because they love each other everything's gonna be fine - Alex is OK again - and they lived happily ever after". I mean - it would be great and all, but I want to keep it more realistic. I don't know where or how is this going to end. I just want to warn you - it might be sad. A bit. Okay, maybe not just a bit. I really don't know. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the kudos guys! And comments! Everything! It amazes me and makes me want to write more and it's really great and supportive since I'm not even native English speaker and I pretend I can write in English! I love you all <3333
> 
> The song which Miles sings in this chapter is "Stop crying your heart out" by Oasis.

“We ‘ave ten minutes left,” Miles stated, turning away from the white dial and black minute-hand of the watches hanged over the door. He was saying this more to himself than to Alex. Talking made him feel more secure. However, Alex didn’t seem to share this kind of habit.

He was sitting slumped in one of two armchairs and no casual observer would guess that he’s going on stage in less than quarter hour.

That he’s going to play the guitar which was now lying on the low table next to the armchair.

That he’s going to play and sing the songs he’s written with his best friend, his soulmate, his lover, his partner, Miles Kane.

There were no signs of tonight’s concert in this backstage room. Only two guitars and Miles’ unstopable humming of some of his personally favourite parts of songs.

“You nervous?” Miles sat down next to Alex but his fingers began automatically tapping on the leather cover of the armchair, showing that Miles is the nervous one tonight.

“I can’t make it.”

It weren’t just words coming from someone who always doubts his abilities. It was just a cold and unemotianal statement of someone who is sure about this.

“Don’t be a dick’ead, all the people who are comin’ tonight, they are ‘ere just because of you . I highly doubt they know me name, to be honest. I’m the one who should feel frustrated!”

“I don’t wanna go there.”

That look – Miles has seen it before – it’s THAT kind of look, the kind of look that makes Alex’s face look like a mask – a mask behind which are all the real feelings hidden. A plain mask of uncertainity which wouldn’t let any emotions show up on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are you really that afraid?”

“I can’t play it. I can’t fucking touch the right strings, it’s all in my head and fingers, I don’t know the correct order...”

“Are you kiddin’? You’re the greatest guitarist I know!”

Alex’s breath quickened and there was still less and less sense in his neverending sentence: “- and I should have let it be but I couldn’t, because if you do that, I’m doing it too.”

All these words falling from his mouth were smashing upon Miles’ mind, making him move closer to Alex, who was still babbling rapidly, touch his shaking hands, take them in his own and reassure him that it’s alright.

_It’s just nerves._

_Every musician has these crazy mixed feelings before their performance._

_Even John Lennon._

Alex admired Lennon more than any other musician in the world but now he just lifted his head and looked at Miles as if he heard the name of Beatles’ rhytm guitarist and singer for the first time.

“Yeah, you’re nervous, that’s all... you didn’t sleep much and I know you’re tired but you can do it, love. This night is our night, right? Don’t forget it. Just breathe...”

Alex’s voice sounded shaky and unsteady as a voice of a crying man, although there wasn’t a single tear on his face. “I-I can’t breathe at all, I just...my chest feels so heavy and...” – _his speech turned into a real sobbing_ – “...and my lungs are full of dust and I can’t breathe in because it just makes everything worse ...” – _is he talking about panic attack?_ – “...and I’m full of that dust and can’t take it anymore...”

Miles shook his head resolutely. “No, no, don’t talk like this!” He squeezed Alex’s hand and looked into his eyes with such power as if he was trying to stare right into his soul. “You're a great musician, okay? Don’t ever doubt that. I love you. You’re an amazing singer and people who are standing there under the stage love you too. Understood?”

Alex’s lips curled into a faint smile. “It’s still twenty-three,” he said, voice back in normal.

“Alex.”

“If it’s twenty-three, everything is fine.”

“Alex,” Miles whispered. He pressed their foreheads together as if he was ready to exchange his and Al’s thoughts. “You’re the best. You’re the star.”

“S-sometimes... sometimes I can’t see the stars.” Alex’s unsteady gaze wandered over the room until it stopped at the guitar.

Miles followed the direction of his gaze. The guitar. Of course it’s the guitar – and the music. It might calm him down and help him get rid of the nerves and anxiety.

_Only if it was just "nerves and anxiety"._

He picked up the guitar. There was a certain melody in his head and he needed to be realesed. He couldn’t help but started to sing and he immediately felt the gloom of the moment. It wasn’t very good pre-gig atmosphere and he felt the sadness fell heavily on his chest, yet he still believed that this could ease Alex’s stress.

_“‘Cause all of the stars have faded away_

_Just try not to worry, you’ll see them someday...”_  

His singing was rudely interrupted by the sound of doors opening and the voice of their drummer.

“Five minutes, lads!”

“ ‘m sorry, babe,” Miles murmured apologetically. “Time to go.”

He got with the guitar in his hand up but Alex remained sitting in his armchair.

“Alex.”

_Why is he so tense, why is he so frightened, why is he so pale, why does he look so confused, what’s going on inside his head, what’s happening there?_

“Alex! It’s the high time.”

He finally got up, still not looking fully ready for the show. Miles pulled him closer for a small kiss, in fact just a quick peck on lips, which was something like his own way of wishing good luck, and as they were walking through the door, following signs STAGE through the corridor, he tried to cheer him up again.

The pressure was rising with every single step and Miles would swear that he heard beating of Alex’s heart.

“Don’t worry, Al, I’m right next to you, yeah? We’ve done this before. It’s our last concert in here before the tour and it’s gonna be the best fucking concert any of the people here ever experienced, right? Remember. _You’re a star and you’re gonna shine tonight_.”


	4. But I have grown older and you have grown colder

The concert was a complete fiasco and Miles couldn’t convince himself it wasn’t.

He saw disappointment on faces of people in front row, he even saw some of them leaving and it was breaking his heart. It all worked so well in the beginning! When the concert started, people were dancing, girls were cheering them and Miles had to laugh when he noticed the faint smile on Alex’s lips - oh thank God, he likes this he’s blushing, his cheeks are so sweetly blushed and his voice is a bit different than usual, an still he’s so fucking cute and the crowd is great, they know lyrics and theyre singing along and repeating every line as an echo, responding to Miles’ enthusiastic “ _‘how are ya tonight? Feelin’ good? I wanna ‘ear it - DO YOU FEEL GOOD_?”

Then something happened – that terrible moment; a switch between a dreamlike concert and a nightmare. All of sudden, Alex stood there confused and there was no sound coming from his mouth, parts of songs where he was supposed to sing passed in silence.

Miles quickly turned his head to check the situation. _What’s wrong, Al?_

Some people began to boo.

Miles desperately wished not to panic, he gave the unpleased crowd a look which stood for “I don’t know what’s going on but it’s probably my fault.”

He rushed to the place where Alex was standing with arms at his sides.

“What’s wrong, babe? Al, look at me - what’s wrong?” He tried to cover his mouth to make it hard for anyone curious who would want to read from his lips. “This is very important, Al, I need you to concentrate now. Please. We can talk later, but now you gotta concentrate, ‘kay? We’ll talk later, yeah?”

He planted a quick peck on Alex’s left cheek as if it should have assure Alex he really means it.

It didn’t have any positive effect on Alex. Next song sounded awfully amateurish, Alex was staring somewhere over heads of the people, forgetting words or whole sentences, ignoring changes of chords and rhythm. Yet he was still playing his guitar roughly like if there was no feeling in his fingers.

Miles tried to sing the whole song by himself. It didn’t work, he soon ran out of breath and his voice didn’t sound half as good alone as it did in combination with Alex’s. It was too much for Miles. He desperately wanted to give everything into this performance, to make it the best concert they have ever played, and he thought there was nothing able to stop him from it.

 _Only Alex_.

It’s their band, not only his, but Alex’s as well. This is their concert, not Miles’, they are both standing on the stage, it’s not possible for just one of them to keep the performance alive.

And Miles could see well – oh so well – all the surprised and annoyed looks on faces of people, they were not getting it. Is Alex drunk tonight? He could almost hear these questions clearly from a group of people who were staring on Alex. He looks as good as alaway, he’s still that handsome shy boy with guitar, but something has changed. Is he stoned?

One song was over and Alex’s didn’t seem to mind, he broke one of strings on his instrument and cut his fingers and yet he continued to play with a ribbon of blood slowly flowing down his hand, fingers still in the same position as he was playing the same chord over and over.

Miles couldn’t take it anymore. No, he won’t let Alex bleed on the stage, not here, not anywhere else, not in million years, fuck this concert, fuck their musical career, fuck everything else. He mumbled something about “technical problems” into the microphone and thanked the crowd for coming here tonight, all this with eyes closed, and then he literally dragged Alex of the stage.

“What about the other songs, Mi? They won’t hear it...”

“No, they fuckin’ won’t.”

“B-but this was our concert – “

“ – and you didn’t play a single song correctly! You better explain what were you thinkin’ about, mate!” It’s not “love” tonight. Just “mate”. It could be anyone.

Miles regretted his words as soon as he let them out because Alex looked too miserable to be able to face any criticism. “ ‘m sorry, Al, I had to quit it. What were you doin’ there? What were you thinkin’  about? Are you tryin’ to destroy everythin’ we ‘ave?”

“ _Am I_?”

“That’s what I’m askin’! How could I know?” His voice sounded angrier than he wanted. “You’re always thinkin’ about somethin’ else than you should... – Or someone?” An unexpected jealousy hit Miles right in his heart. How long have they been together? Two years? _Is it long enough for Alex Turner to become bored of a relationship?_ “Are you listenin’ to me, Alex? This was meant to be our best concert, for fuck's sake!”

Alex didn’t react.


	5. And nothing is very much fun anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter in this style ("poor Alex and clueless Miles"), next chapter will probably start solving things and the whole story should finally start moving.  
> I'm posting this now because I'll probably be busy this week and don't know when do I get to update. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> Feedback more than welcome ;)

The ride back home was terrible and Miles had to turn on the radio to at least ease the icy cold atmosphere in their car.

Alex’s voice suddenly interrupted his flow of thoughts about tonight’s failure: “You hate me.”

 _Was this meant to be a question_? _No, no, it sounded more like a statement_. Miles took a breath – partly to fully calm down and partly to answer – but Alex didn’t let him reply and continued: “You hate me because I’m fucked up.”

“What?”

“I can’t play the guitar.”

“No! No – it’s not hate – for fuck’s sake, Al!” He glanced at Alex and then he shook his head furiously and concentrated fully on driving again. “You don’t really think I would hate you for this, do you?”

”You hate me. I know that. It’s in your eyes, you know?” Alex’s voice cracked down, last two words sounded soaked in tears. Miles slowly moved his left hand from the wheel, ready to lay it comfortingly on Alex’s knee, but Alex suddenly grabbed his shoulder with both hands, causing him yelp in surprise, and rapped out: “Stop it!”

“What---?!”

“Stop the car!”

“What’s wrong with---“

“STOP THE CAR, KANE!” Alex’s voice now balanced somewhere between hysterical shriek and a cry of pain. Miles had no time to think about it, Alex’s scream made blood in his veins freeze and he heard every beat of his frightened heart. He stopped the car at the side of the road, silently hoping there’s no other vehicle behind theirs.

_A car accident was the last thing he would need now._

Alex unfastened his seatbelt and as soon as Miles stopped the car – even before turning the motor off – he opened the car door and got out, tottering towards the grass-covered field which was surrounding the road. Every new step was less steady than the one before. Miles left the car lights on and climbed of the car right in the moment when Alex collapsed on the grass.

 _Jesus Christ_.

He ran to the body which was lying in the grass and dropped on his knees next to him.

 _Fuckfuckfuckfuck_.

“Alex?”

No response.

 _Double fuck_.

He touched Al’s arm and noticed that it was covered in sweat.

 _Did he pass out_?

_What if Alex felt bad during the concert? What if he was in pain? What if he was feeling sick all the time?_

_Fuck you, Miles Kane, really, you can’t even take care of the person you love the most._

“Alex, babe.” He bent down so his lips were almost touching Alex’s sweaty face. Its colour was unhealthy greyish-white and Miles now noticed that his eyes are opened but in a rather scary way. _Blank. Like windows of an abandoned house. There’s nothing inside_.

Miles decided not to care about his feels about the look Alex’s eyes gave him and rather be grateful for his consciousness. “Talk to me, Alex, please. You fainted? Do you feel sick?”

Few cars passed by on the road and the sound of their motors was the only thing Miles heard.

“Al, love, please. I can’t ‘elp you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” He took Alex’s hand into his and lifted it from the ground. Alex resembled a rag doll but Miles’ attempt to make him sit was uneffective. “Are you tired? Exhausted?”

“I needed to feel the ground.”

“ _To feel the ground_?”

“I needed to touch it.”

Miles couldn’t tell if it eased his mind or not. Alex’s behaviour has been worrying him lately and this situation was no better. He felt tears coming up to his eyes. It's all too much, too much for him to take – problems with the tour, with musical aparature and now with Alex.

_Alex, what happened to you? I know you feel the pressure, I know it, I’m in this business too. Just let me help you. Tell me everything. Tell me what’s distressing you. We used to talk much more than we do now, we used to talk the whole night through until the dawn. What happened to you? What happened to us? Why won’t you talk to me? How can I know what are you thinking?_

He couldn't say it aloud. He held Alex tightly and tried to fight the tears which were ready to flow from his eyes.

“I had to touch the ground because I couldn’t feel it in the car,” Alex explained.

His words just made more tears come from Miles’ eyes.

_What the fuck are you talking about, Alex, I don’t get it. I don’t know you well enough and it’s driving me mad._

“Now it’s good when I can feel it,” he reassured Miles, who was trying to stifle his sobbing. “Now I’m alright.”

However their situation was far from _alright_ at this point.


	6. And I can feel one of my turns coming on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how much I hate English for not being my first language.  
> And I hate all these English tenses - like, what the **** is wrong with having only three tenses? My native language has only three of them - future, present and past - and we are still alive! (but we have masculine, feminine and neuter gender of nouns, well...) Eh, sorry for that. I love English. I'm just...angry because I can't use the tenses properly and it's driving me mad because I would love to write stories without grammatical mistakes, I would love to describe everything more but I can't because the more I write the more mistakes I make.  
> That's my excuse for this very very late update. I'm sorry but I hope it's understandable.  
> (I didn't mean to be rude to native English speakers)  
> I'm sorry for mistakes. ¨  
> Enjoy! ;)

Miles woke up that night for no particular reason, his eyes popped open in the middle of some dream he's been experiencing and he remained motionless and gazed on the ceiling, wondering if he’s still in the dream or if it’s reality again, and when he finally moved a bit he could feel the empty space next to him. The warmth of the other body, Alex’s, was missing.

He rolled to his side and touched the bed sheet on the other half of the bed just to found out it’s already cold. Alex must have been gone for a while now.

He could have felt sick – after yesterday’s experience, Miles wasn't really sure what’s wrong with him – and he could have passed out somewhere in the hall or in the bathroom – just the idea of Alex fainting in the house while he’s still laying in the bed made him come to full consciousness as if it was bright and sunny afternoon and not this godforsaken hour- and he decided it would be better to go and check where the hell Alex is.

The blood red digits on the clock on the bedside table were screaming the time – 02:07.

The hardwood floor felt cold against Miles’ bare feet as he got out of the bed and headed for the bedroom door which was opened. How creepy is that? He hated it when Alex crept out of the bedroom in morning and left the door half-open while he was still sleeping, it made him feel uncomfortable to wake up facing the opened door like if he was waiting for someone to come. Well, it’s different now, Alex has probably just gone to the bathroom and didn’t know that I’m gonna wake up too, so he left the door like this. 

“Alex?”

He checked the bathroom, but the lights were off and there was nobody there.

 _There’s still a chance that Alex sneaked to the kitchen downstair to have a late-night-snack. No need to panic. No need to panic. No. Need. To. Panic_.

And yet Miles’ heart began to beat faster and he could feel the beads of sweat on his forehead. Silent repeating of the only thought he managed to keep in his brain now – Alex is downstairs – proved to be useless, somewhere deep inside he already stopped believing. There have been too many bad things in his life lately and most of them involved Alex, Miles could feel that this is simply another one.

He ran down the stairs holding the handrail.

“Alex!” he called out and turned the lights in the downstairs hall on.

There was silence in the ground floor. The house has never been more silent and scarier. Kitchen, living room, dining room were so empty and dark and Alex was nowhere to be found, nor in the back garden.  However, their car was still parked on its place in front of the house, and Miles felt grateful for that – not that he could feel well at the moment but this gave him at least some hope that Alex can’t be really far away. Yet he could still be anywhere deep in Liverpool. God, he doesn’t even know the city well.

There was one simple question that Miles has been trying to avoid alas he couldn’t push it out of his head – _Why would Alex do that_? And why would he leave? Is he trying to scare me to death? Or does he really think that I’m mad at him for the concert fiasco yesterday?

All these unanswered questions were tightening his throat and filling both his heart and head with the heavy feeling of complete confusion.

He ran upstairs skipping every other step and grabbed his mobile phone from his bedside table. At this point, his fingers have already been slippery with sweat and beating of his frightened heart was louder than the sound of dialing Alex’s number.

Miles was well aware this is the last chance of reaching Alex. If Alex doesn’t answer, he will...he will... He wasn’t really sure what would he do then.

_Please, answer the phone, Alex, please, baby, answer the phone and tell me you just took a walk around the neighbourhood to meet your writing muse, to clean your head, whatever ---_

The he heard a soft music coming from the other side of the bed – clear yet quiet sound of guitars, the music which was familiar to Miles’ ears, it had to be a Beatles’ song – Alex’s ringtone – and Alex’s mobile on the floor next to the bed.

Several seconds have passed as Miles was staring on Al’s mobile, unable to move, pick it up from the floor or hang up his own mobile. 

_And what now? Alex has gone and left his mobile in here and it’s half past two in the morning and he could be anywhere._

_Great – another problem fitting their recent misery._

He squeezed the mobile in his sweaty hand so hard it almost slipped out and the tips of his fingers hurriedly danced across the mobile keyboard until the name of one of Alex and Miles’ closest friend, Stevie, appeared on the screen and the sound of dialing the number echoed in Miles’ brain, cooling him down for a couple of seconds.

Stevie didn’t even bother to answer the phone.

Neither did Jack.

Edward sounded very sleepy and annoyed. No excuses could help Miles to avoid the line of swearing.

 _“ ‘da fook, ‘s three in da mornin’, ya dickhead, fuck off, ‘m tryna sleep!_ ”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you - ”

“ _– you fuckin’ called to tell me that_?”

“No, it’s about Alex!” Miles himself noticed how his voice has changed, how dreadfully it sounded and how close to crying he actually was right now. The darkness of the room was surrounding him, choking him, filling his heart and soul with despair, and the light of the mobile screen seemed to be the last thing that keeps him sane.

“ _What’s with him_?”

“I – I don’t know, he’s gone and I have no idea where did he go – we went to sleep and when I woke up he was gone –...” He slumped down into the bed covered with messy bed sheets and his head ended up in a position between the two pillows. His eyes were shut tight and all he could hear was the silence on the other end.

He could now feel the presence of tears on his face as they were rolling down his cheeks.

He didn’t even know when he started to cry.

“ _Gone_?” Edward sounded much more awaken and friendly now. And serious, too.  “Don’t you know where could – “

“NO! I don’t know anything! I mean – he didn’t take anything – or it seems so – and the car is here too – but he left his phone here and I-I don’t know – I don’t fucking know anything.... I’ve been living with him f- for two years – and I don’t know where could he be, he didn’t leave any note... I-I have no clue”. He covered his mouth to silence his sobs but they were still audible. He couldn’t help it. His cheeks were wet and it was impossible to talk without running out of breath.

“ _Are you crying_?”

“No,” Miles mumbled between sniffs, covering his mouth with trembling fingers.

“ _Come on, Miles, I know you are. Why? He just took a walk, what’s wrong with that_? _You were always telling me he often gets his strange moods. Hey, don’t worry, he wouldn’t leave you without leaving a nice long goodbye note...”_

Miles let out a desperate howl. It took away the last bit of breath in his lungs and he started coughing heavily, so heavily that he had to sit up and take a few deep breaths which proved to be almost impossible in his crying state.

“ _Oh fuck sorry mate, I didn’t mean... You alright there_?”

“Yeah, ‘m okay,” Miles assured him while angrily wiping tears from his flushed face. “I just feel so fucking useless ‘cause I don’t know where to start. I-I should do something – I should be looking for him, maybe I should go out but I have no idea where to start or where should I go, which way....”

“ _Stay at home, don’t worry, he’ll come back. He’s just staring at stars outside or something... He’ll come back with a single red rose and newly written lyrics, that would be so him_. _Take a nap or listen to Beatles and Oasis, keep calm and he’ll be back_.”

“What if he won’t?”

” _Don’t say... Why are you so pessimistic anyway? I’m telling you he’s walkin’ happily down the street in your fuckin’ Birken’ead, give him some time. If he’s not back until the dawn you can call the police_.”

Miles managed to stop the flow of tears and his breathing got back to its normal frequency but the mention of police hit him like a train. “The police?!”

“ _Well, I don’t know, ‘t was just an idea. You can call his parents if you want to alarm them. Shit, Miles, you’re taking it too seriously; just be patient and wait.”_

“Cheers, Eddie. Sorry for botherin’ you.”

“ _Hey, it’s okay. Let me know when he’s back, yeah_?”

“Right. ‘ night.”

“ _And don’t worry too much. Alex is a grown-up man and he can take care of himself, dontcha think?”_

“I hope you’re right.”

 

\---------------------

 

Familiar sound of the first chords of Oasis’ “Roll with it” woke him up and just in that moment he realized he was sleeping. His phone was lying on the pillow next to him in the exact position he placed it after hanging up. He quickly glanced to the window – it was still dark but the sky had brighter undertones – and on the bedside night clock – 4:37 – and then he grabbed the phone and pressed the green button right in the moment when Liam Gallagher was about to start singing “you gotta roll with it”.

“Hello?” he said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his free hand.

“ _Good morning. Am I talking to mr. Miles Kane_?”

Miles sat up and ran his hand through his hair – messy and disheveled. “That’s me.”

“ _Sergant Mayes speaking. Do you know mr. Alex Turner_?”

“Yes, I do.” The nervous tension in his stomach was slowly building up. _What’s going on_?

“ _Alex Turner was caught in the act of breaking into the store and he’s been transported to the Birkenhead Police Station. He refused to answer any question and apparently doesn’t have any papers or ID. All he said was his name and your name and number_.”

Miles didn’t feel anything but gratitude.  Alex is there on the police station and it’s not really far away, and that liberating feeling of knowing where Alex is made him almost forget about _where exactly_ he is.

 _Birkenhead Police Station_?

_What kind of joke is that? There must be some mistake, perhaps Alex was in the wrong place at the wrong time and got arrested as a suspect._

_Poor Al. He’s always the unlucky one and he always ends up in the wrong places._

_That’s all. The end._

Miles simply couldn’t admit any other possibility.


	7. I feel cold as razor blade, tight as a tourniquet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I don't know why it took me so long to post an update - i guess it has something to do with my fear of writing in very bad English so i stopped posting. Now i finally got back into the right mood for this story - and maybe even for the other one, "It's just fun" ;) i hope there are still some people who used to read this story or who simply remember it, haha.  
> (I'm really terrible).  
> So please, take this chapter mostly as a kind of "comeback" of 'Silent Freeway'. I promise i'll keep on writing this story! xxx

Sergeant Mayes was one of those awfully polite people with assuring voice and slow moves and gestures that he more resembled a police psychotherapist than a regular policeman. Miles practically stormed into the station and asked the desk clerk where is he supposed to go – the desk clerk took his time to make a call somewhere, probably to one of the offices, and then he calmly told Miles to wait until the sergeant comes for him.

“Sit down and wait for sgt. Mayes, he should be here any minute.”

Sitting was the last thing acceptable for Miles in this situation. Instead, he started pacing back and forth across the corridor with eyes fixed on the wall clock. It was not even half past five in the morning, no surprise the police station looked almost abandoned then.

Sergeant Mayes came after ten minutes of heavy silence and anxious waiting.

“Good morning, mr. Kane.”

“ ‘ morning.”

“I’m sorry if you’ve been waiting too long, I understand your situation is not – “

“Yeah.”

“Please, follow me.”

Mayes led him through the tiled corridor and Miles could imagine all the criminals and dubious people being dragged through the hallway by uniformed policemen – and there was no place for poor little Alex in this imagination. He just couldn’t fit in this place because this place was meant for different kind of people, for people who lost their dignity and hope or for people whose adverse fate cause them troubles, not for Alex with dreamy eyes and shy smile. Alex wouldn’t hurt a fly, Miles was sure about that.

“I would like to warn you – “ Sergeant Mayes started after he had stopped in front of a white door with glass window. “His condition is not the best. He cut his palms and fingers on the splinters of the glass from the display case he’d broken. Nothing serious, no deep cuts – but he got the bandage anyway.”

“Oh God...”  This image became very vivid in Miles’ mind, he could clearly see the bright red ribbons of blood running through Alex’s white fingers and this image was so wrong yet so real that Miles’ heart clenched in pain.

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to worry you – “

“It’s alright, thank you.” Miles forced a faint smile on his dry lips. “Can I see him?”

“Of course, I only wanted to inform you about his condition first.”

With these words, Mayes opened the door.

Miles was standing still as if he was afraid of taking a step inside. This was definitely a different situation than he’d expected, he somehow hoped Alex would be waiting inside, all impatient and happy to see him, yet it was all quiet in the office and it scared him more than he’d thought. He felt a sudden urge to ask Mayes Is he in there? but then he realized how stupid it would be since he can go and see it himself.

Alex was really in there. More precisely, he was there in physical form. His body was sat on a chair in front of a desk and it took Miles one second to realize how miserable he’d looked.

It wasn’t about Alex’s ruffled hair or bandaged hands and even his pyjama bottoms combined with jean jacket seemed perfectly fine. It was all about the eyes and the absence of...the absence of anything inside of them.

“Alex...”

Only now Alex noticed he’s no longer alone in the room. His dead eyes slowly wandered to the opened door where Miles and Sgt. Mayes were standing and then he moved his lips in some kind of silent ‘hello’.

“Mr. Turner, I hope you will feel more secure now.” Mayes walked calmly to his desk as if nothing was happening at all. "Mr. Kane, why won't you sit down? There's a lot to talk about."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always welcome! :)


	8. Dry as a funeral drum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this is a longer one!  
> 1.I'm really happy for all the support I've been given by the readers, it's amazing and I really thank you guys with all my heart. I never knew you would enjoy my story so much. It makes me very happy <3
> 
> 2\. If you have some spare time, please, watch the video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o7VO6_beRRE.  
> It's a "hidden inspiration" behind this story - because it's by my beloved Pink Floyd and also becasue it's where my interest in mental disorders started. The song is called "One of my turns" and I use its lyrics in the names of chapters (although it doesn't have anything in common with the story - except for it being about mental health issues). Also the name of this whole story, "Silent Freeway", comes from that song.
> 
> 3\. I have the idea of Alex and Miles looking like this in the story: http://i1.wp.com/conversationsabouther.net/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/last-shadow-puppets.jpg  
> (Alex looks so small and... I don't know how to explain...lost? And Miles seems to be concerned about something... I just got the idea for "Silent Freeway" from both "One of my Turns" and this picture - because here Miles looks like the one who's going to take care of Alex, and Alex looks kinda helpless.)
> 
> 4\. Okay, that's it. Now I will have 2 weeks off (no school, no work) so I should be able to write more ;)
> 
> Sorry for mistakes in my English and any possible typos :)  
> Thank you for all the support, I hope you'll like the story as it goes. Feedback is welcome, as always!

Miles couldn’t decide if he wants to cry, scream, drag Alex away or stay reasonable and calm. The last opinion seemed to be the most acceptable one. He closed the door and made few more steps closer to Mayes’ desk. “So – what has happened? Why are we here?” he asked with a lump in his throat.

“Well, mr. Kane...”

“I did it,” Alex blurted.

_Alex, Alex, what are you doing to me? What are you doing to us? What is happening in that untouchable mind of yours?_

He reached to touch Alex’s shoulder in the least helping yet comforting gesture but Alex flinched away as if he was scared of the touch.

“Mr. Turner, can you tell me – or more precisely us – what exactly did you do?”

Alex yanked his shoulders again.

“Al, please,” Miles spoke softly. He was now standing behind the chair Alex was sitting on, leaning against its back – so close to Alex yet the distance between them was unbearable. The ever present mind connection seemed to be broken. Alex was sitting there with his bandaged hands and faded smile in some kind of his private world where Miles was not allowed.

“What were you doing on the Woodchurch Road around 1 a.m. tonight, mr. Turner?”

The silence that had fallen on the room made Miles’ heart sink. The only sound was produced by humming lights. Someone closed a door somewhere in a remote part of the building.

“Alex, please,” Miles whispered, not sure what was he asking for.

“Well I-I went outside.” Alex’s eyes desperately darted around the room. “The lights were on as always, they never turn them off.”

“Alright, mr. Turner. Where exactly did you go?”

_Yes, Alex, tell me more, tell the whole world the truth about your innocence and all these false suspicions._

“I asked where the light is – “

_What?_

“ – and how to find it. It’s never there when you need it.”

“Really, mr. Turner? Are you sure this is the reason why are we here now?”

“It’s not my fault!” Alex’s voice rose dangerously. “I can’t be responsible for everything!”

“Nobody’s trying to say that.”

“You all are. That’s what you always do. Kill everyone with endless questioning.”

_What is he talking about? Has he already been interrogated?_

At some moments of his puzzled speech, Alex looked calm and everything he was saying made perfect sense; then it changed into a mixture of words with no connection or structure with no association to the whole situation, as if Alex was fighting between his reasonable mind and some part of him that was falling apart.

“Nobody’s trying to kill anyone, you’re here because you broke into the shop, do you remember that?”

“Of course he remembers that!” Miles couldn’t stand his tone anymore; Mayes was talking with Alex as if he was speaking to a four-year-old. “He’s not an idiot, he knows what has happened! Why don’t we discuss more important things like what’s going to be with Alex now? What’s the property damage? Does the owner of the shop know what happened? I thought that’s why we’re here – to learn about the situation and its consequences.”

“Yes, of course. I just thought it would be better if mr. Turner underwent an examination – “

“What kind of examination?”

Mayes looked as calm as possible. “ _A psychiatric assessment_.”

“What?” This person – this little bastard Mayes who has never seen Alex until today, and who knows nothing about him, thinks he’s the one with the right to talk about the state of Alex’s mind? He knows nothing!  “Are you serious? Why would he do that?”

“He underwent a routine drug and alcohol test, they were both negative – “

“What’s the problem then?”

“ – but his behaviour is irrelevant and _definitely not normal_.”

Alex moved in his chair. Miles couldn’t tell if it was the jitters or because Mayes was talking about him in such way.

“This time,” the sergeant continued, “we can say he was lucky. The damage of the shop is relatively small, of course the window will cost something but it should be okay. Nothing serious happened. Nobody was hurt.”

“He has cut his hands,” Miles pointed out.

“I mean – _no third person_ was hurt. The window can be repaired easily and nothing was stolen from the shop.”

“Well?”

“Try to think about it. How lucky he was tonight. There could have been much more dangerous situations. What if he’s hurt someone? What if he’s hurt himself in more serious way than just cutting his fingers?”

“I don’t understand why should I think about this, it would be terrible – “

“Think about it and you will understand why it would be better for everyone if he went through a psychiatric assessment.”

“What are you trying to say? That he’s crazy or something?”

“No, not at all.”

“Than what? That he’s a dangerous madman - ?”

“I’m not saying anything like that.”

“Who do you think you are to talk about his behaviour? You don’t know him at all! Alex has the most beautiful mind I have ever known. There’s nothing wrong with it, you know? He’s different, yes, and he thinks differently. But that’s all.”

Mayes raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Mr. Kane, I cannot force him to go to a psychiatrist and I clearly cannot make you trust me.”

“It’s not about trusting anyone, I’m sorry, but I simply can’t stand listening to such things about Alex. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“And does he deserve to suffer?”

“What do you mean?”

“If his behaviour is not caused by alcohol and drugs, it must be something,” he pointed at his head, “in here. And it’s not a good choice to ignore that.”

Miles sighed. This conversation was taking forever. How to make sgt. Mayes believe that Alex is not a fucking psycho with delusional beliefs and ideas?

“Alright,” Mayes cleared his throat, “I hope you’ll remember what I’ve said. I’m not pushing you – I only think it would be better and safer. I know what you’re thinking – _you’re just a regular cop, what do you know about psychiatry?_ – but believe me, in my career I’ve met many different kinds of people, even people with mental disorders.”

Miles smiled bitterly. “And you think Alex Turner is one of them.”

“It’s none of my business and it’s not up to me to judge it.”

Alex lifted his head as if he hadn’t heard any of previous words that were mostly about him and he looked at Miles with the most naive of looks. “Are we going home now, Mi?”

“Yes, yes of course we are. You must be tired.”

“I’m not. I just wanna go home.”

“Okay,” sgt. Mayes sighed with an unnaturally forced smile. “I think we’re done here. You will recieve all the documents needed for the payment of the caused damage in a few days, mr. Turner. I’ll need your adress.”

“ _Why_?” Alex asked suspiciously, forehead wrinkled.

“Because of the documents. They’re sent by mail.” Mayes tried to explain once again, this time slowly and

“ _What for_?”

“It’s 13 Cavendish Drive, Birkenhead,” said Miles. “I hope everything will run smoothly.”

“Thank you, mr. Kane. Have you brought the documents I asked for on the phone? It’s neccessary for the identity check.”

“Sure.”

“Thank you.”

“Miles.” Alex reached to the adressed one. “ _Miles_.” Something in the tone he spoke and also in the way he moved his hand harshly made Miles feel an inner trepidation. Everything in this situation seemed surreal, and very very wrong. “ _Miles_ ,” Alex repeated for the third time in row.

“What’s wrong?” he lowered his voice in an attempt not to disturb sergeant Mayes, who started typing something into the computer on his desk.

“What am I supposed to do? I never knew it would be like this.” Alex grasped hold of Miles’ hand. “I just wanna go home.”

Sergeant gave Miles an utterly comprehensible look - _You see? This is what I was talking about_.

Miles could feel the growing tightness around his heart. “Of course we’re going home, Al,” he whispered in the most comforting tone he was able to speak.

“You shouldn’t have given them our address.”

“It was neccessary – “

“ _It’s wrong_.”

“They need it.”

Firm grip of Alex’s hand has tightened. “It’s _so_ wrong, Mi.”

“It’s the police, they need to know our adress to send the papers – “

“ _You shouldn’t have done it_.” Alex’s face hasn’t changed at all, only his eyes seemed to be icy cold and free of any emotions. “ _You failed me_.”

Miles swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

Alex’s eyes were boring into him as if he was the guilty one; and it worked. Miles started to feel as if he actually was responsible for all of this, for Alex’s behaviour, for the problems he’d caused, for the situation they got into, for every little fault in their lives.

“ _I’m really sorry, Alex._ ”


	9. Run to the bedroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry.  
> Schizophrenia is an unpredictable illness, the people who suffer it (or any psychosis in general) are simply unable to tell the difference between reality and their delusions. And so they tend to react to their own delusions (and/or hallucinations) which leads to unusual/dangerous/strange behaviour.  
> That's all I can day about this chapter.
> 
> Sorry for my English and possible mistakes/typos. Love you all, thanks for support!  
> Feedback is welcome ;)

When they left the police station, it was already dawning and the first rays of pale morning sun were shining over roofs of terraced houses surrounding the street. Alex stopped on the sidewalk and closed his eyes, face enlightened by the sunshine.

“ _It’s good to be free_ ,” he explained with eyes still closed.

Miles couldn’t be angry at him – it has never worked, this time it was no different. Alex simply wasn’t the kind of person he could blame for anything. It’s been a terrible morning so far; Miles had no intention to make it worse and so he’d love to avoid any further problems. Forgiving Alex wasn’t very hard, especially when he looked so good and innocent in the faded light.

“It’s actually an Oasis song, y’know?” he said jokingly. It was a great weight off his mind being finally out of the police station.  _Nothing serious has happened_ , he repeated to himself in his head,  _it’ll just cost a bunch of money, which is okay_.  _Money is not important_ ;  _well – at least not as important as Alex’s freedom_. And Alex was free, and it was good indeed – forget the fact he was wearing that ridicilous combination of gray pyjama bottoms and blue denim jacket. “The song goes like –  _All I want to do is live by the sea, and all the little things, they make me so happy, but it’s good, yes it’s good to be free_.”

Alex shook his head. The light on his cheeks was charming, he looked much better now than he did in Mayes’ office – his face was not so pale and greyish, he looked healthy, and he looked  _alive_.

Miles’ heart was overflowing with deep affection he felt to that tiny dark-haired boy with puppy eyes who has gotten into such trouble tonight; all he wanted to do was take him home and take care of him – maybe if they get home soon, they could celebrate escaping major difficulties by some nice cuddles, it would definitely make this terrible morning better.  There was just too much stress and pressure in their lives lately. Why not spend one day as in the ‘good old days’ or whatever they would call the times when they were used to lying in bed or on the couch whole day with entangled limbs and shared duvet.

 “Alex,” Miles sighed and enjoyed the way it sounded.

“What?” he asked with nervous laugh and opened his eyes.

“You look so good it should be illegal.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” Miles stepped closer, “that you’re the most handsome man I have ever met. I don’t care what happened tonight, I’m not angry, okay? ” He touched Alex’s shoulder, tense and unsure of his reaction – he still remembered how was Alex yanking away in Mayes’ office – but now Alex leaned forward and stopped right in front of Miles’ head, their noses were practically touching, and he was waiting for reaction. It was like an awkward attempt for a first kiss.

“How can you be so goddammit cute now,” he whispered in the air made of their mixed breath.

Alex was staring at him with anticipation.

“C’me on, babe,” Miles breathed out and closed the distance between their lips.

It was not Alex’s lips that met his own – it was a strike of Alex’s open hand that hit Miles’ cheek with a loud slap – out of nowhere, with no explanation, with no reason.

Miles winced at the unexpected pain that itched on his left cheek. “What the fuck - ?!”

“Go away,” Alex blurted, pushing Miles away from himself.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Fuck off!” Alex exclaimed loudly.

Miles grabbed his hands, careful not to touch the bandage. “Alex! Have I said something wrong?”

“Don’t touch me – “

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” Alex screamed and backed off, trying to free his hands out of Miles’ firm yet careful hold.

“Calm down, it’s okay – “

“DON’T-TOUCH-ME!”

_This is not Alex, it can’t be him, it’s not who he really is – he’s not rude nor vulgar, he would never shout on the street; it can’t be real._

An old couple stopped on the sidewalk on the other side of the street to watch their struggle.

“Alex, please, calm down, people are staring, please – “

“FUCK OFF!”

There was no point fighting him, Miles understood it would make things only worse, and he let Alex go, he released his hands, but words were still coming out of his mouth, pointless and repetitive.

“Listen to me, Al, please, just listen to me,” Miles threw his hands in the air as if he wanted to prove to Alex he doesn’t have a gun or anything else he could hurt him with. “Listen to me, okay? Will you listen to me?”

“Gofuckyourself,” Alex babbled as he took few more faltering steps backwards.

“It’s me, it’s Miles; you don’t have to be afraid! - - - “

“SHUT UP! I know who you are!”

“Don’t you trust me? Just stop, please, don’t – don’t move. It’s okay, see?” His voice was shaky and desperate but not as desperate as the look that appeared on Alex’s face

The burst of anger and hysteria vanished as quickly as it arrived – all of sudden, there was no screaming or running away; Alex breathed out loudly as if something heavy fell off his chest and then he looked around, baffled.

“ _Alex_?”

He looked both fascinated and confused, as if he’d just woken up in an unfamiliar place. Miles took advantage of this situation and rushed closer – close enough to take Alex by the hand again, just to find out Alex’s whole body was trembling.

“ _Is it okay now_?” he asked though he knew the answer himself.

Alex didn’t react in any way; he stood still and petrified, apparently busy with something inside his head.

“ _Alex, can you hear me? Do you know what’s going on_?”

Alex’s silence scared him way more than his screaming because he wasn’t sure what to expect next.

Is there a new outburst of emotions going to happen?

Is it going to be a heartbreaking confession?

Or maybe Alex’s going to try to get away from him.

Or...he might stay here, catatonic and mute.

“ _Alex, please, what’s that? Tell me something so I can know you’re with me. Please_.”

The unusual shivering of Alex’s body hasn’t stopped yet; Miles could still feel it, all the light tremors in his arm. He didn’t like it, as well as he didn’t like the faraway look in Alex’s dark brown eyes.

„ _Why don’t you talk to me? Tell me something, please, say something, do you hear me_?“

„I-I need to – get away,“ Alex whispered absently.

„We’re going home, okay? There’s nothing to worry about. You’re okay, you’re safe. Right? I’ll take care of it. Okay?“

“We should run away.”

“No. No, we’re going home, Al.” He took Alex by the hand, ready to let him go in any case of another sudden wave of anger. “As soon as possible. I parked the car just behind the corner, down that street.”

“I wanna sleep.”

“Yeah, you can sleep in the car if you want but we’ll be home in ten minutes. You can sleep all you want there.”

“I’m tired of this.”

“Come on, I know you are. It was a rough night, so let’s go, okay?”

It was just in the car where Miles realized his eyes are red and watering and he’s been crying the whole time.

*

Alex crawled off to bed as soon as they got home. His face looked haggard, as if the confrontation on the street pumped out all the energy he had left.

Miles was not willing to leave him alone, so he took his laptop and sat in the chair near the bed where Alex was lying on his side.

“Do you think you can fall asleep now? Should I draw the curtains?”

“ _I’m already sleeping_.”

His answer brought a sad smile on Miles lips.

Yes, Alex was definitely in touch with reality. Sometimes.

And sometimes he wasn’t.

And everything could change so quickly.

Miles watched the now peacefully relaxed face of his lover. How can anyone so pure and perfect experience these states? How did they get into this situation? Why Alex?

What the hell was Mayes talking about? A psychiatric assessment?

A psychiatric assessment for Alex Turner? No way! But tonight’s experience scared him. And the way Alex reacted to his attempt for a kiss, the slap and the momentary hate in Alex’s eyes, it was a nightmare, Miles felt useless and stupid in that situation, he had no idea how to behave, if he’s supposed to let Alex shout or if he should calm him down – and there was nobody to ask for help.

And yet he felt guilty when he opened a browser and started typing.

**liverpool birkenhead psychiatrist**


	10. In the suitcase on the left you'll find my favourite axe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the names of some chapters - as I wrote before, names of chapters are in fact lyrics for "One of my turns" by Pink Floyd. I also tried to think about the lenght of the story, and now it seems to me it could have about 25 chapters or so in total. We will see.  
> (I'm just happy I got back into writing of this - and I'm overwhelmed by so positive feedback!) Really, wow, thank you so much! <3  
> And I have one request for you, my lovely readers : can you write the name of the country you're from down in the comments/add it to your comment? - I'd just like to see in which parts of the world people read this :) Thanks!  
> Let's move to the story, I hope you'll enjoy it.
> 
> Feedback is welcome :)

Alex woke up after two hours of peaceful nap and as he moved and rolled onto his back, Miles looked up from the laptop almost apologetically.

“Morning, babe.”

Alex blinked rapidly and rubbed his eyes. “What’s the time?”

Miles glanced at the digitals on the right bottom of the laptop screen, then he discreetely closed the browser window with a list of _Things your psychiatrist may ask_.

“It’s nine ten.”

“Oh.” Alex yawned and started rubbing his eyes again. “Nine ten?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s high time.”

“For what?”

“I want to colour the walls in this room," he stated, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. "And then the ceiling too, but walls at first. I want to colour the walls.”

Miles put all his effort into smiling. He tried so desperately not to let sadness and fear take over his expression, he didn’t want Alex to see any hint of worries on his face.

“I want to have these walls painted blue – _no, green_! – You don’t like that? Nevermind.”

“What?”

“Nevermind. I knew you wouldn’t like it anyway.”

“Babe,” he tried to ease his own confusion with a joking tone, “I haven’t said anything, I don’t mind having the walls painted green or any colour you like.” He put his laptop on a desk and got up. “You know I’d let you do anything you want – _well, almost anything_.”

Alex was watching him curiously as he approached the bed.

 _Don’t run away, just don’t run away, please_ , Miles thought. He sat on the side of the bed, next to Alex. “I’m here for you, Al, you know? You can tell me if anything’s wrong, you can trust me.”

“I don’t know – blue would be better, dontcha think?”

“Love, I don’t give a fuck about colours now, I care about you. I want to talk about you. How do you feel and...just, you know, if anything’s bothering you...if you have something on your mind or so.... If you need anything...”

Alex’s face was serious and he seemed to be actually listening.

“I think,” Miles continued in the most calm tone he was capable of, “you need to talk to me – or maybe to somebody completely new.”

“I don’t like new people.”

“Remember what Mayes said – it would be better – “

“I don’t want to meet anyone.”

“Please. _Just listen to me_.” He would lean closer, stroke his cheek and kiss him, if he wasn’t afraid of being rejected once again. “It would be better.” He laid his hand next to Alex’s arm and waited for a few seconds to let Alex think about what he’s just said. “I don’t mean to push you into anything, don’t take this as an order, no, I just think you should – _we should_ – try it.”

The proximity of Alex’s body was too tempting, Miles couldn’t get rid of the feeling he should show his affection and empathy in other way than only with words, and he tried his luck again, laying his hand on Alex’s arm, for the third time today.

 _Third time lucky, as they say_.

Alex didn’t seem to notice the soft caress or he simply decided to accept it this time. Miles felt encouraged and moved closer. The touch was not only soothing and comforting – as he believed – for Alex, it also made him feel in touch with Alex again, yet still he somehow felt like an overprotective mother trying to cuddle with a rebellious child.

“I want you to be happy,” Miles’ voice lowered to the smoothest and softest whisper. “I want you to be able to talk about everything, and if there’s something you can’t tell me, you could definitely talk to somebody else.”

“I can’t tell you everything, you wouldn’t understand.”

“ _I would_!” Alex immediately gave him a suspicious look. “Well – maybe-maybe not everything – but please, promise me you will give it a try. I’ll go with you, I’ll be with you all the time, you don’t have to be afraid of anything. It’s just a consultation, and I’ll arrange it all, just say that you agree.”

Alex grinned.

“Can I take it as ‘yes’?”

“No. I want to stay here.”

“Yeah, I didn’t mean it like you should – we should – do it today, no, it probably wouldn’t be even possible anyway; I meant – maybe next week?”

Alex shrugged. “I don’t think ‘bout this often.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“I won’t mind it.”

“Really?” He patted Al’s shoulder gently. “You have no idea how it makes me happy – and _how you make me happy_.”

“Will you go with me? Because I can’t start a conversation.”

All these unexpected questions and explanation were bringing mixed feelings in Miles’ heart, feelings of love and care but on the other side feelings of misunderstanding and fear. Saying “you make me happy” was not completely honest since it was mainly stress and anxiety what Alex’s been bringing to his life lately, but it was a nice confession and Miles hoped Alex would appreciate it at least a little.

“Of course I will, love. Anywhere you’d go I’ll go too.” He dared to touch Alex’s head – at first he just run his fingertips across Al’s cheeks and when Alex didn’t react in any negative way, he stroked the side of his head and ended up tangling his fingers in his lover’s messy dark hair. “Because I love you, that’s why.” He tried to put everything into this simple sentence, all his feelings and emotions.

Alex was staring at him.

“I love you,” Miles murmured, voice filled with care and tenderness. He moved his hand slowly down Alex’s face. “ _I love you_.”

The only effect was that he felt tears watering his eyes; he realized how bad it hurt not to hear any kind of “I love you too” in return.


	11. Don't look so frightened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm really really sorry that it took so long - and I'm really sorry that the chapter ends like this (I wanted to wait with publication until I finish the whole scene but it takes me forever and tomorrow I'm starting my summer job - kill me please - so I won't have much time for writing - but I will definitely try my best to update soon! - and so I decided to post this part now). Hope it's not too bad and crazy and that there are not so many mistakes etc.  
> Love you all <3
> 
> Feedback is welcome ;)

The waiting room of Dr. Scott’s psychiatric clinic could be a waiting room for any kind of medical office. Miles was genuinely surprised how normal it looked; he wasn’t really sure what he’d expected but definitely not this – a quiet room with white couches and chairs, orange painted walls and linoleum.  He’d also thought there were going to be other people, other patients, and he was afraid of Alex’s reaction towards them, though now all his fears appeared unreasonable as the waiting room was quiet and clean, only decorated with some flowers and posters advertising new pills that help the aged people cope with symptoms of dementia.

Dr. Scott himself looked like someone Miles would expect to see in a pub on Friday night complaining about politics but he also seemed to be trustworthy and friendly – Miles could tell that just from the way he welcomed them both in his psychiatric office and asked them right away if it’s okay to call them simply “Alex” and “Miles” during the conversation, with no unnecessary formalities.

Another thing Miles liked about him was the way he reacted to the information that he and Alex are a couple.

“Oh,” he smiled professionaly and nodded. “It’s good to know. I’ll remember to avoid the questions about wife and children, it would be awkward.”

Moreover, Doctor Scott looked as the most average man; quite tall, about fifty or fifty five years old, with balding head.  His office was furnished in the same style as the waiting room – simple and full of light and cheerful colours.

He offered them seats and asked Miles if he’s the one who recommended Alex to see a psychiatrist; Miles nodded. Alex was sitting next to him, in the other chair, with head turned on the other side – he seemed to be watching the posters and pictures on the wall.  

“Mr. Turner – Alex? Can you hear me?”

 Alex glanced at Miles with a confused look.

“ _Alex_ ,” dr. Scott repeated calmly. “It’s me talking. Do you hear anyone else’s voice?”

“Er...I’m – I’m just admiring the pictures – “

“Do you like them? Which one in particular?”

Alex squirmed in his chair. “I – er – no, no, it’s not...I can’t say that.”

“Is it some kind of secret?”

“Yes, yes, that’s it.”

Dr. Scott didn’t seem to be surprised at all. Well, then again Miles reminded himself that he as a psychiatrist must have seen stranger situations.

They had a short chat about basic informations in which dr. Scott explained he appreciates the care that Miles has for his partner but that it’s necessary for him as attending psychiatrist to talk with Alex alone at first. Ordinary routine, he said.

“I need to get the picture of his general mental status - what he feels, how he feels and most importantly – what are his thoughts about being here,” Doctor explained as he walked Miles to the door leading back to the waiting room. “Don’t worry, it won’t take long; I’ll call you back in when we’re done.”

Miles ended up in the waiting room again, this time alone. It was in fact the first time in days, maybe even weeks, he was completely alone without Alex. And it felt...liberating, in a weird kind of way.

He walked along the wall, looking at the pictures and posters.

_Symptoms of depression._

_Therapies for the families of people with mental disorders._

_Dealing with alcoholism._

_Signs of drug abuse._

_Helping people with acute psychosis_.

An acute psychosis? It was not the title that caught Miles’ attention – it was the comix-like form of the whole poster; every picture had a text underneath, explaining how to talk to a psychotic person and when is it necessary to call an ambulance.

 _A psychotic person_ , Miles read, _can experience hallucinations, unusual beliefs, paranoia, mixed emotions and muddled thoughts and they can show puzzling behaviour_.

Unusual beliefs, paranoia, muddled thoughts. It all looked so familiar; his heart ached at that thought. _Acute psychosis_ , he read again. What does that even mean?

There were more words that used to be abstract to Miles but now they were all terrifyingly real and present in the form of Alex’s behaviour.

Paranoia, insomnia, loss of interest. Emotional flatness.  A psychotic person may not be showing any kind of emotions, it was written in the next paragraph.

When was the last time he heard Alex laugh? Or saw him cry? Or just smile warmly? His eyes used to be full of energy and happiness; where did it go?

He was snapped out of his thoughts and painful realizations by a sudden noise from the office; he could hear the now very loud conversation – it was not a regular conversation anymore, more like an argument – between the doctor and Alex.

_“He’s a fucking liar!”_

_“He’s not, Alex, he’s waiting in the other room – “_

_“I’m not talking about that one!”_ ( _That one_? So that’s how Alex refers to him?) “ _He’s not --- She always knew this would happen.”_

Who the hell is ‘she’?

_“I know, you told me so already. Now put that back down, please.There’s no need to worry. If you don’t feel well we can end it for now.”_

“ _Don’t – JUST LEAVE ME ALONE_!”

A cold shiver ran down Miles’ spine. He rushed back to the office door; only to find out it doesn’t have a handle and he can’t open it.

Alex’s voice was shaky with anger and filled with pauses for taking short breaths as he was shouting confusing sentences. _“Don’t do that! No! Do you want to kill me or what?! Would you like to see that?”_

 _For fuck’s sake, Scott, do something! You’re the doctor here._ Miles started knocking furiously at the door with no idea if he really wants to see what’s going on inside or rather not; and he couldn't really hear the banging on the door over the sound of his rushing blood and racing heart.

“Wait a moment, mr. Kane!” dr. Scott practically yelled in response.  “ _Ann_! Bring me a needle and Apaurin!”


End file.
